The Song Has Changed
by Kawind El Flako123
Summary: Years after the Music Meister's stint of almsot ruling the planet with song, he breaks free from Arkham a changed, smarter man. He only wants to live in peace and settle down as opposed to seeking revenge on Batman. But what if he finds out Batman's true identity! Does his plan change? (I've always found it unfair that the Music Meister was a great character with only 1 episode..)
1. Music Meister 1

As the red-haired master mind sat in his confined space, he rocked back and forth humming to the scratching of the rats in the walls. To the little ticks the roaches made scuttling across the less than pleasant carbon floors. To the drops of water from the leaky sink down the corridor. They were all a cocoction of his own symphony.

Marvelous, he thought, absolutely marvelous.

The Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, or rather, Arkham, forced this splendid man into solitary confinement along with a muzzle, the filthy animals. Speaking of "filthy animals", Gorilla Grod's confinement must not have been cleaned in days. The stench wreaked havoc among the many criminals imprisoned there, but they did not utter a word. They didn't dare to. It would ruin their train of thought on how to escape and destroy the man who put most of them there, the Dark Knight himself, Batman.

The name made him want to break into song, but the muzzle denied him the pleasure. The cage for his mouth was in place so he could not sway the guards to release him.

It'd been 3 years since the muzzle was first put in place, and the Music Meister felt the need that it was time to take it off.

He'd been owning his craft. He tapped his foot along to the tick-tick of the Clock King's face. He listened once again for the rats, and the roaches, and the water. Once he got the rhythm down, he activated his vocal cords and hummed once again, feeling the power surge from his deep in his gut to his upper torso to his throat and out it came from his body in a beautiful melody.

The rats halted.  
The roaches halted.  
The water halted.

Even Clock King's face stopped, much to his disapproval, "Was ist denn hier los!" Just as expected, he would freak out, but the German was an exquisite touch also. He tapped on his clock face repeatedly, signaling the Music Meister to sing higher, setting his next part of the plan in motion.

The hands on Clock King's helmet turned again. Faster, faster, faster, until smoke smoldered in the air and then fire burst onto the scene, "_Guards! Guards!" _Clock King cried out, looking for someone to relinquish his burning face. The King of Song had already done the math, the guards would arrive in 3, 2, 1... He heard the pitter patter of feet running past his cell, "Clock King! What did you do!?" He wouldn't offer an answer, "_ Help!_ Help me! _**Get it off!**_"

"Unlock his door!" Music Meister heard the sweet sound of keys jingling as the guard holding the keys fumbled to find the correct one, then he heard the most beautiful sound: the door unlocking. He hummed his loudest now, and the roaches and rats swarmed the pathway, eating them alive. The inmates were all going crazy now. Somehow, the sound of three grown men screaming for their lives can put a fire under anyones bum. The guards fell silent, but Clock King still shrieked for his life.

Our red-haired genius used the water down the corridor to douse the fire, and Clock King also fell silent. Music Meister's minions, the rats and roaches, took the keys. He heard them traveling through the walls and then eventually they made it into his cell. He didn't have much time before a whole slew of guards rushed in to find the source of the blood curdling screams that were made earlier. There had to have been a button somewhere to release all of the inmates from their hellholes. He shifted through key after key until he reach a key that was a different color than the rest. It seemed so different and on it, he saw the logo of Wayne Enterprises. They didn't make keys, did they?

Unless...

He fiddled around with it until he noticed the very tip of the key folded over to reveal a very miniscule button. He quickly pressed it and his door popped open just as simply as a kernel of popcorn would. The silence that insued was only expected. The "criminally insane" did not rampage through the corridor like the typical stereotype would suggest, these men and women were genuises. Mad geniuses. They didn't need to rampage and mindlessly destroy things.

As they all shuffled out of their cells, Music Meister found a key labeled muzzle and unlocked his mouth's cage. He didn't speak. Not there. But he did walk out of his confinement just in time for the other guards to break the loud silence of the room, "**_SOUND THE ALARMS! THE INMATES ARE OUT!"_**

The Music Meister smiled deviously as no sound was made by the manually controlled alarm system. His rats had been at works for weeks. Chewing through the very complex and tedious wires that were encompassing the perimeter of the Asylum.

The very scared, donut eating officers of the law shakily drew their guns.

The chattering of their teeth was music to The Meister of Song''s ears. They didn't want to die. And he was sure the minimal wage of watching these so called criminals day and night only to have them break out under your nose, and have Batman return them in a number of dies-was only enough to pay for their small apartment's rent and his/her child's lunch money as their only parent. Yes, the Music Meister knew these things, and he thought every waking minute about how he could use these things to his advantage, but he would leave these things alone for the larger, and more psychotic monsters that were downgraded to the level of "criminally insane".

* * *

For what it was worth, he regretted that he made the plan to escape when he did. He would have relished the battle that ensued. As he traveled through the dank tunnels that his rats had been digging ever since he arrived, he heard the screams of guards, begging for mercy. He heard the battle cries of the inmates, and the giddy laughs of revenge that they were taking on the guards that were so, well, "less than accomodating" for his kin. Although for one, they were hardly kin. And two, how could they not be? As far as he knew, they'd all plotted to rule the world or completely destroy it. And to them, these guards were puny, tiny, insignificant, even. And yet, during their months and years of confinement and clausterphobic-like spaces, they were treated the exact same way, they would treat them.

But did it change their views? No. They sought even more revenge, and returned to the streets and took it out on the world. But the Music Meister? No. Even with the huge goals he set for himself to rule the world. He was foiled once, and he would not be taken in a second time. He would use the education he actually gained in school and pick his battles. Which he would never have another one again.

* * *

He crawled for what seemed like hours. The sounds of the skirmish he created had faded away silently, and all he was left with, was the sounds of his own breathing echoing down the tunnel...That is, until, he was met with the beautiful sounds of Sir Henrik IV Opera House. Oh! The pure pleasure it made him feel to hear the thunderous boom of a baritone...the soft, angelic, but overpowering shrill of a soprano.

Reaching his destination, he shed a tear.

No, the asylum was not a traumatizing experience, he simply learned that if he was going to fight, he was going to win. And now that he was out among the public, he had a chance. A chance to start over.

He climbed out of the tunnel under a seat in the auditorium of the opera house. The very plush, blue foldable chairs were just perfect for the occasion; a jail break. Yes...the Music Meister could see the newspaper headline in the morning: "Massive Jail-Break from Arkham! Entire Solitary Confinement Unit Escapes! How Will Our Caped Crusader Respond?!" in big red letters with just a picture of the "bat-signal". Glorious, it would be.

Sitting in silence, he watched the chorus of human vocal excellence. It sent shivers down his spine. He had not heard such beautiful noises in years. Not since his own, or even Black Canary's, since before his incarceration into the same establishment that he had just escaped from. The ever so stunning lioness that had captured his heart with her voice was far out of his reach now. News spead inside the prison that Green Arrow and Ms. Canary were engaged. Oh! How that made his heart sink deeper than any ship Black Manta could muster.

But he would not seek revenge on them. No, he held no ill will of any kind, and as the beautiful Gregorian chant came to a close, the Music Meister promptly stood and exited.

He was free.


	2. Bruce Wayne 1

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne, for your contributions to the Humane Society of Gotham. Without you, "The old man choked up, "We wouldn't have been able to provide homes for many of the orphaned children that our orphanages house..." He dabbed a tissue under his eyes, leaving Bruce Wayne to stand there awkwardly, waiting for his 8th or 9th key to the city.

He no longer wanted to just stand there and smile as he waited. So he analyzed the man before him: white-collar, pitch-black blazer. Clearly a man who knew money and how to use it. His tissues were customized with dollar signs. OCD more than likely. The fabrication of the tissues appeared to be some sort of silk that was biodegradable. He was a man who believed in saving the earth's resources, but he seemed to have an infatuation with money. This money was very conflicted, as Bruce could see from his chewed fingernails. Bags under the man's eyes indicated one of two things, he either didn't get enough sleep, or he was a very prone liar. He saw no triggers that indicated he was a liar in many of their conversations, so he was a non-sleeper. Insomniac? Hardly, but a possibility. Countless times has he called Bruce 'Charles' or 'Whitley' who just-so-happened to be the old man's imaginary friends.

"Such a shame..." the audience caught him thinking aloud, and they fell silent, leaving him to scramble for his wording, "Such a shame that there are still kids without homes! I hope we will further our efforts in the future to put an end to this tragedy..." He cleared his throat and the audience resounded with a wave of claps.

The man choked up again and wiped away tears, holding the key, "I...J-James Kennedy of the Gotham Human Society...present you with this key to the city." He held out a hold-plated key big enough to break down a couple of hardwood doors but was as light as a feather.

Bruce shook his hand and accepted the key. He put an arm around his old friend as they held the key together and posed for pictures.

* * *

The billionaire drove home in his 2014 BMW M1. The pur of the engine very nearly rocked him to sleep, and then the autopilot would have turned on and driven him home. Well, it drove him home _sometimes. _

As he pulled into his rather winding driveway, he noticed the guards were nowhere to be seen. He stepped out of his car, and suddenly realized that it was a Wednesday, "How stupid of me..." They were off on Wednesdays, but he felt the need to call them in for overtime. Something was off, and it just might have been the perimeters security system. He needed to get inside, _quickly._

He sighed...realizing it was already too late.

"Heyooo, Brucie!" To save face, Bruce Wayne took his time to fix his suit and turn around to become face to face with...

Alfred.

He was drunk.

"Alfred...I think you've had more than your fair share of happy juice, "He clapped his friend on the back and pushed him forward, "I think it's time you go to bed. Here, I'll take that off your hands..." Bruce grabbed the half-full bottle of rum and opened his front door. Alfred only got like this when he was depressed. And he was usually depressed when he cleaned Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Wayne's room. He insisted on keeping it clean, even in their death. He owed them, and every time Bruce asked why, he'd never get a straight answer.

_Damn..._he thought. How had he not realized?

A mysterious tap on his shoulder was met with a full five knuckles to the nostril. Bruce pushed his assailant to the ground and delivered a swift kick to the face, knocking him-or even her-to the pavement head-first...

It was the UPS man. Master Wayne was going to have to write a serious apology letter in the morning, and more than likely have to pay for a trip to Cabo or even Tokyo. The life of a billionaire with a split personality that is a butt-kicking shadow at night was indeed complicated, "Mr. Wayne!?"

He picked up the man by his shoulders to drag him inside, "What is it Alfred? Did you forget where your thumb is?...It certainly would not be the first time..." He was halfway to his door when he turned around to check on his rather delusional friend to see him trembling at a knife's edge, "Hey, Bruce! Longtime, no see, old pal!"

The man's face was covered in bandages, but that was already more than enough to provide the clue about who it was, "Hush...! How'd you get out of Arkham?!"

"Oh, so you actually remembered my name? I guess being childhood best buddies wasn't all for nothing. " He pouted and flirted with Alfred's neck, using the knife, " Anyway, things happened. But do I care? I got out. A couple guys are dead, but not my problem."

Bruce cautiously and slowly slid a Batarang from his waist, "Why are you even here? This is not the best place to go to when you just broke out of prison. The feds will be here any minute."

"With wits like mine, and a whole gang of fresh out of the pin criminal masterminds under my thumb, it's amazing what a man can do with so much power..." He paced around, dragging Alfred behind him as the shadows surrounding Wayne Manor shifted much to Bruce Wayne's disadvantage, "Cuff him."

A presence shifted behind him, and he was immediately on the defensive until said presence tapped his shoulder in a 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' pattern. Code that someone was working undercover, but who?

He smelled burlap. But it smelled underused. But also new; like someone bought a white t-shirt and was told they were allergic to white. Horrible analogy, but all the more true. The smell of aftershave had wafted to Wayne's nose; Old Spice. A lot of it. He must have left in a hurry. They must have responded to the Arkham escapees, and there were only a few heroes that Batman knew that had alarms like that. Combined with all of the other factors, it did not take a genius such as the World's Greatest Detective to uncover who this man was.

Shortly after, he felt a warm hand on the hand he was going to use against Hush, "You'll need a lot more than this, Bats..." And slowly pushed the Batarang back in his pocket. The cold, warmth of the cuffs sent goosebumps up his arm, which was an unfamiliar feeling because Bruce Wayne or even Batman, never was introduced to hand cuffs and now he knew, "I'm getting you out of this pickle." The cuffs were not very strict on his wrists, allowing for easy hand rotations, enough room to break them at any time, "Alfred first."  
"Still choosing the common civilian over yourself at any time...? Just like you." He laughed and pushed him into Hush, whom caught him by his collar and pimp slapped him across his face, dropping Alfred to the ground who didn't move. Bruce assumed he passed out a while ago from the alcohol.

"5 years. You must not realize how many episodes of NCIS a man can miss in 5 YEARS. Hey, but maybe we can binge watch it for a couple of weeks. Ya know? Like good ole' pals!? My place, ya know. In hell...that is!" He pulled a gun from his back pocket with his trigger finger ready and the barrel of the bullet facing the side of the billionaire's head, only for an arrow to take it out, displeasing Hush, "Who's the wise guy!?" A green figurehead appeared on top of a stone gargoyle overlooking the manor.

"You can bet your ass that it's Green Arrow!" The figure jumped down and shot a boxing glove arrow at the head of the assailant, knocking him out.

"You're such a show-off." Bruce scoffed at his best friend, "It's been years and then you just decide to drop in!" He cracked his knuckles as the criminals all surrounded the crime fighting duo.

"Hey! Ungrateful much? I could've let you get manhandled by these guys, you know!" He notched an arrow to his eternally green bow and smirked, "It's not like I've gotten a life since the last time we saw each other...oh, wait..."  
"I would've handled these guys myself!" He slid his brass knuckles on his hands, and threw his blazer off to the side, "Oh, spare me the sob story!"  
"You're just mad that I saved you again."  
"Again? Since when?"

He aimed his arrow down the first man he saw, "Since always."

* * *

**A.N.** Excuse my rudeness for not doing an Author's Note on the first chapter. It completely slipped my mind.

I've been on a tangent about Batman IRL, and besides Heath Ledger's Joker, the Music Meister is my all-time favorite evil villian introduced in any Batman-verse. Sad to say, he only recieved one episode. So why should I not continue his story? I'm afraid there won't be that many showtunes in this take, however. I'm not a musically inclined person, so the songs you read here will more than likely be less than amateurish.

I hope you guys have enjoyed the first two chapters! This story will only feature two points of view, Batman(a.k.a Bruce Wayne) and the Music Meister. As I said, I hope you all have enjoyed the first two chapers, and I'm very well excited to continue this story into the future!

_So...  
_Kawind OUT!


	3. Music Meister 2

As the Music Meister made off with Black Canary in a burlap bag, he realized he was not a very good liar, even to himself.

She weighed only 150 pounds, but she still struggled against the confines of her theoretical cage as if she weighed 2x that. He had actually knocked her out, but after a few run-ins with Gotham's police force, she was awoken. They shouldn't have been after him, however. He planted the idea in all of his inmate allies' heads the idea to go after Bruce Wayne, the richest, most famous man in all of Gotham. Of course, he knew that he was sending them on a suicide mission; no one could ever get the drop on Bruce Wayne without millions of barrels of police commissioned guns placed behind their head. Hush, a very..._very _impatient criminal was hell-bent on taking out Wayne. This, however, was no skin off of his back; he only wanted freedom.

He gained it, but there was only one snag in the road, and that was his unrequited love for one Black Canary.

He stuffed her in the trunk of his stolen Firebird and drove away from her and Green Arrow's joint neighborhood of Sunny Hills. The Music Meister had broken in just as she was changing into her nightgown, so he scraped up what little respect he had salvaged from Arkham and sat silently, unwilling to watch, and waited for her to be fully clothed, and pounced unexpectedly on the womanly beauty.

Sounds of her attempts to escape could be heard, but he merely wanted to drive into the deep forests of Gotham. There, his summer home was left standing after years of vacancy. His family had deserted Gotham after a small amount of time, leaving him with his much more humble, and much poorer auntie and uncle. He attempted to live the simple life, but as he explained in his first big time criminal exploit, his world was plagued with bullies and ruffians, and as he discovered his power of hypnotism by song, his well repressed rich kid habits re-emerged and ultimately led the way in his attempt to reign supreme over the Earth...

And after decades of aloneness, the home will be the settlement of the Maestro of Villainy once again.

It seemed as if he scorched the ground attempting to hurry to his home before dawn...a certain fantasy called his name: to watch the sunrise with the love of his life, Black Canary. As he passed row, after row, after row of trees and a long winding dirt road, the ball of gases stealthily rose higher and higher, and he realized he would not make it. No matter...maybe it was best they didn't do such things on their first date. He pulled into the driveway and watched as the manor rose higher into view. It was not as big as say, Wayne Manor, but it did just fine for a wealthy family of three.

The house stood exactly in the way of the sun in the morning light, which provided a beautiful view of the countryside from the attic's glass window. That is where Black Canary would stay to watch as the moon climaxed in the sky above, as the stars would twinkle in the sky yearning for the ones in her eyes to return to them.

Oh! How these thoughts made the Music Meister swoon with ecstasy! He gently cradled his love from the trunk as she had fall unconscious from the numerous bumps and jumps and turns and jerks. He would cook her breakfast. A german omelette with swiss cheese, goose eggs and a cheese sauce that could make even Batman smile with delight. His mouth watered again and his mind ran wild almost making him run into a stone column beside the door, but he regained his composure, side-stepped it, and walked right in. unknowingly, he had prepared this house to be occupied by himself and Ms. Canary from the moment he got out of Arkham. Strange enough, at that point in time, he still believed he harbored no ill will, and now, at this very moment he was carrying her limp body into the house to be tied up and spoon fed. How ironic.

He felt the urge to sing, and he let it loose...

"Oh...Ms. Canary...  
So very...  
Very gentle..." He made his way up the stairs to the attic as the stairs creaked to his pattern, "To see you again...  
Is like a dream...  
As I see your face,  
So soft with its beauty...  
I can't help but to reminisce...  
You are a hero...  
I am but a villain...  
But my love cannot sway..." He laid her down on a cot just big enough for her to sleep in and sat and marveled at her face, "So stay...my love...and never leave...just stay, my love...and be mine...Ms...Canary~..." He kissed her forehead and activated the straps to hold her to her bed. He gave her one last look of pure sympathy and vanished to the kitchen. He was quite famished after his night of rebirth and thus, a meal was in order.

* * *

He very slowly pranced up the stairs with a light foot and sat beside her bed, injecting an anesthetic into her mouth that should have disabled her vocal chords from reaching her highest frequency. This woman was Black Canary, a superwoman with a delightful voice when entertaining, but a destructive force of nature when in danger. If she was to do anything when she awoke, it would be to sonic blast the Music Meister and escape using her wits. As much as he hated having to capture her and forcing her into his care against her will, he couldn't let her escape either.

Oh! What had he done!? He dropped the syringe and forced himself into the corner in a quiet frenzy as he watched a slowly waking Black Canary shift her head. What had possessed him to do this?

"Oh, boy...oh, boy...oh, boy..." He paced back and forth trying to figure out a possibility that she wouldn't sick her superhero alliances on him, but all of them turned up negative.

And then he heard it.

"Music Meister...?" Her voice washed over him much like that of a songstress, but this was no ordinary songstress...Her Georgian dialect broke through her surprise and her kidnapper had suddenly forgotten what he panicked about. It all seemed miniscule compared to her radiance.

He turned around trying not to smile with glee as her face was stricken with amazement...and embarrassment, "Oh, what fun is this..." She scoffed and turn her head away, but he was not disappointed in the slightest.

"You're beauty has not changed one bit, my dear..." He reached in the stroke her cheek, but was met with her trying to bite off his finger. He quickly pulled away and wagged his finger in front of her face, "Don't bite the hand that feeds you, Ms. Canary, " He held the omelette he fixed and picked off a piece with a fork, "Here comes the train~" He pushed it into her mouth only for her to spit it at his face.

"Then I'll just spit the food at his face then, no?" She smiled dubiously, still very resilient and feisty. He wiped the food from his face and turned on the tv as he kicked back in his own chair to finish the breakfast, "You broke out of Arkham didn't you, hun? Capturing me won't be the safest thing you could do even without being in your situation..."

He wiped his mouth clean with a napkin and sat back, "I suppose, but you see, I'm not the only other villain from that prison to escape. I _orchestrated_ the entire debacle. From the morning rat scratches to the very last blood curdling scream I heard as I crawled to freedom. So you see, my dear, I have no need to worry. Your "hubby", Green Arrow, will not be here. He is very occupied with Batman, as I predicted, to be cleaning up the criminal, disease ridden streets of Gotham. It is just us and whatever symphony we decide to work together to create."

"You're insane...!" Black Canary pleaded.

The Music Meister jumped from his chair and tossed his plate to the wall, shattering it to pieces, "That's just it! That's why I escaped! The world I was living in...the underworld, you squeaky clean heroes called it. Endless...endless suffering. My voice was reduced to _nothing! _Quieted! Silenced! _For **three **years!_ All because of some stupid money!" He grabbed Canary's face and held it still, "**_THAT,_**Black Canary, is the real "insanity!" He released her face and flicked away a strand of hair that was covering his face. Oh how he hated that.

Once he was silent, he felt he heard a faint sound amongst Black Canary's body. Her face remained unchanged and skeptimistic, but as he scanned her body, he saw that she was trying to use her fingernail to pick the lock on her wrist.

He let himself get worked up for nothing. It wasn't worth it; how could she of all people understand him?

"Forget it." He released her from her chains and threw her onto her feet, "You're free now."

He pointed down the stairs, "Get out."

His victim looked rather astonished, "Excuse me?"  
He rushed her against the wall and cornered her looking deep in her eyes with a very thin overlap of tears covering his eyelashes. He spoke in very low, but seething with rage tones, "I...said 'Get out."

Inside of his head, this seemed like the most ludicrous thing he could do, but he could no longer look at her. He could no longer look at himself. The Music Meister wanted to be left alone. He wanted solitude. Somewhere in his broken psyche, he wanted to go back to prison...

She stared into his eyes and shifted away from his body while his head remained fixed on the spot where her eyes had just been.

He could not bear to look as she stepped down the steps and further and further away from his grasp.

If this was what freedom felt like, Arkham was indeed a safe haven for criminals.

* * *

**A.N. **I'm sure most of you have already realized I'm taking a darker turn on this story, and I'm especially sorry for the horrible song. I'm still debating on whether or not to put this fanfiction in the same format as the episode; ya know, song, plot, song, plot. I'm not a song writer even though the songs are what made "Mayhem of the Music Meister" so profitable for the shows producers. We'll see as the story progresses. I may tweak a few details and add my own touch or two, if thats acceptable.

Anyway, thanks you guys for reading and I'll see you in the next chapter!

_So...  
_Kawind OUT!


	4. Bruce Wayne 2

The Bat Cave was astonishingly enough blacker than obsidian. But inside, it was full of the latest technology a man such as Bruce Wayne could find. All for the expense of protecting Gotham. He didn't have to do it, but if he didn't, who would?

He slipped off his mask and sat, exhausted in his chair under the many, many mounted monitors and computer systems. Green Arrow's torn shoes pittered and pattered across the shiny white floor, "Boy, was that some shindig?"

"I would hardly call that a 'shindig', Arrow. There's no way those prisoners just broke out by themselves..." Batman spun the chair around and began to type into his monitors.

"Lighten up, Bats! You're lucky I took time away from my semi-retired life to come save your sorry butt! I've got a fiancée at home, and I'm out here fighting Arkham idiots who are too dumb to know the difference between left and right. Am I right? " He set down his bow and laid sprawled out on the floor, "Every dog has his day. Those guys may have wised up and figured they could take us on if they worked together instead of escaping one at a time...who knows for-"

"Arkham Asylum Escape. 20 injured, 3 dead. The only ones injured are guards...2 guards are dead...and only one convict died in this chaos. The Music Meister."

* * *

Batman and Green Arrow arrived in Arkham just as the police force was cleaning up their equipment and were just leaving. It didn't take a lot of time for Batman to figure out they hadn't figured out any useful information-as always.

"We've rounded up almost every convict in town, man. Let's just start again in the morning so we can get some shuteye..." Green Arrow pleaded with his partner. He yawned with a weak sigh.  
"Evil never sleeps, and neither do I." He burst through the revolving doors of the asylum, but Arrow didn't give up so he raced in after him.

"You know, Batman, you seem to be particularly interested in this case...If I didn't know any better..." He stepped through the broken down door leading into solitary confinement, "I'd say you had a thing for that Music Meister guy..." The Dark Knight's silence provided Green Arrow with more than enough non-existent information, "You did have a thing for him! That's rich!" He poked Batman's shoulder and prodded his face with a finger, "Was it his nose? His hair? His voice?" Arrow almost keeled over from the hysterical laughing, " C'mon, Bats! What makes that "batarang" of yours tick?!"

Batman delivered a side Russian leg sweep to the childish archer, and punched him in the nose, allowing the back of his head to smack against the ground with a sickening _thwak!, _rendering him unconscious. He left him lying there on the ground and continued his inspection of the cells, "The authorities have already taken the Music Meister's body, and two of the three guards that died weren't even killed by the inmates. They were eaten alive by filthy bilge rats and cockroaches." His suspicions were realized when he heard the sounds.

He could hear it all. It was almost rhythmic. The rats scratching the floor as they scurried and the roaches scraping the ground as they scuttled. The sounds moved Batman into a slight swaying motion as he thoroughly inspected each cell until..._drip! _There was a leaky pipe. _Drip! _It disturbed the rhythm. _Drip! _He could hear it! **_Drip!_ **A valve to turn off the water beckoned him forward. His feet shuffled uncontrollably closer..._**Drip!** _And closer...until his gloved hand gripped the valve and turned it shut with a _click! _

...And then the beeps started.

_"It's a trap!" _The explosion wasn't instantaneous. The laughter that erupted from the invisible bomb was a form of calling card for the Joker. He just knew his Batsy would be there, and how he loved to try and make Batman think he had a chance.

Batman sprinted for Green Arrow on instinct, scooping him up and jumping into the adjacent cell just in time for the bomb to trigger a chain of smaller, complimentary explosions...hidden inside the rats that were located in each cell, "Dammit!" He braced for the impact of unbearable hit to encase them, but suddenly, the floor underneath them collapsed, revealing a tunnel to be surprisingly big enough to fit a gorilla in, but without much time left, he activated his jets equipped to his suit.

He needed to get away from that blast. As soon as they landed he activated the jets immediately, hitting mach speed and leaving only a small red dot in the distance, where they would have been had he not saved them.

The tunnel wasn't long, unfortunately. Batman had to turn on the emergency brakes-disabling the jets, tucking, and rolling. Oh! And hoping there weren't any traps along the way. He hit the ground running and tried dropping to his knees to provide a safe slide for a safe finish before he and Green Arrow ended up part of the dirt wall that he could clearly see getting closer and closer, but flipped and flopped like a fish out of water until he landed underneath the hole to whatever god-forsaken building they were under.

And then Batman heard the singing.

He recognized it as the opera house. His father funded the project to build the sacred ground, and apparently, now it was being used as an escape route for 3rd rate convicts. Absolutely shameless.

The Dark Knight hurled Green Arrow up and out of the hole, but truthfully, he should've used his grappling hook and puled them both out with ease. He thought the better of himself and decided to unceremoniously throw the dead weight out of the hole and then climb out himself.

His plan went as he thought, minus the fact that his rather incapacitated friend was no longer incapacitated, " A simple 'no' would've been nice, you damn psycho." He was sitting upright, gingerly rubbing his nose.

"Maybe if you weren't such an overgrown child, we could have a normal conversation"  
"What do you even mean? We have tons of normal conversations!"  
The flashbacks of past conversations flooded Batman's thoughts; one of which, for example, they were closing in on Black Manta's latest scheme for world domination(Really big shocker), and Green Arrow nonchalantly and blatantly said, "Black Canary's cooking is terrible." Batman had attempted to change the subject, and even while they were being surrounded by minions, he continued the subject, and Batman wanted to cook his own brains by the end of it.

But he decided to keep his response short and sweet, "Complaining about Black Canary's cooking doesn't count."  
"Bats, be honest here. Would you listen whether or not I didn't talk about that stuff?"  
"Exactly my point."

Batman helped his friend off the ground, "You sure do know how to make a girl feel special..."

"If memory serves me correct, crime never stops for caring and neither do I." He continued to walk through the pughes of the almost empty opera.  
"You're so depressing dude." He readjusted his bow on his back, and scratched his head, " Where are we anyway?"

Batman surveyed the hall, looking for anything as a clue, but it was for naught, "Joker left us a present in Arkham. Needless to say, any evidence that was there isn't there now..."  
"If there was any evidence at all, you mean. You know we were grasping at straws here. And by we, I mean you. There was nothing different about this. The Music Meister died from those idiots trampling all over him. He is almost unrecognizable. We have no leads. _At all_. We're just going to have to treat this like any other prison break: round up the escapees."

The Dark Knight saw his point. It was correct in every way. But people from good families died in that chaos. No matter how mortal people were, he could let the evil that takes away their lives get away with it...

* * *

Almost like a ripple in time, Bruce Wayne found himself at the funeral for the 3 guards that died. No, not as Batman, but as the wealthy face of a business trying to look good in the face of the city. Oh, but there was a nice twist to this solemn scene.

Reporters stormed the cemetary, crowding the man, soliciting questions from him on sacred ground. They relentlessly pushed him and prodded him with questions that were in the general form of, "Did Wayne Enterprise's security system fail?!" These people were in a panic. No, not for the safety of others, but for their own assets, "Was this a terrorist attack?" Bruce tried to explain but he was too crowded to utter one syllable. He restrained his arms and legs from fighting off the mangy reporters until he caught a glimpse of the grief-stricken families. They were huddled together crying their eyes out, absolutely appalled at the men and women that had utterly disgraced this ceremony.

Bruce wanted to be Batman. His anger was boiling over until a shadow passed over them in the form of Superman. He crash landed approximately 5 miles into the forest behind the cemetary.

The one thing paparazzi loved more than Bruce Wayne was Superman. They immediately forgot the head of the biggest company in the world and went after the Man of Steel himself as if they were moth's attracted to a flame. Bruce felt the urge to go check on his friend, but he thought better than to doubt _the _Superman.

"Psh! Anyone can crash-land, Clark." A firm hand was placed on Bruce's shoulder as he was walking back to apologize to the victims' respective families. Bruce was not alarmed by this, but the families sure were, "You're the Flash!" A little kid produced an action figure and asked for the superhero to sign it, "Can you sign this? My dad gave it to me..." The kid looked wistfully at the picture of his father before the prison break. The Flash had the figure signed before anyone could say, 'Awe.' He also gave the kid and his family a hug, "It'll be okay, we promise. We'll catch the crook who did this and make sure he pays for his crimes."

He ruffled the kid's hair, "And no one...no one should have to live without a father."

Bruce Wayne could hear the sentiment in his voice. Barry had to live sometime without his father, if he remembered correctly, but he turned out alright...

The kid walked to put the toy in his father's coffin with tears in his eyes, and then ran off to their car, most likely to cry in silence. That's when his mother walked up, "You were his favorite superhero, you know..."

"Who? The boy?"

"No, his father..."

That seemed to put a little jive in the Flash's step, "Oh, if the kid wants more merch I can produce some replica boots or wallpapers or Halloween suits up the wazoo for him!"

That's when Superman put his hand on his shoulder, " We can't all fix our problems with pictures of ourselves on the wall, Flash." The two families were in complete shock. Here were two of the most well-known superheroes and they were right in front of them at a funeral...

A funeral...the thought creeped through their heads. Bruce could see that much. They remembered why they were all there and their face's turned grave, solemn, "Thank you for coming, Mr. Wayne...Flash, Superman..." They each gave a hug to each other and the Flash and Superman escorted Bruce out of the graveyard.

The Flash seemed jittery despite the fact that it's very hard to get the jump on a man who can move faster than the speed of sound, "Now, we only have so long before those reporters get back; so let's book it, shall we?"

Bruce sighed, already knowing where this was going. He picked up his phone and called his housemate, "Alfred, get Bunker A28 ready. We'll be there shortly."

* * *

**A.N. **Excuse me for my lack of updating. Marching season is done now and I finally got a social life now. Sue me. Not really. There's not much you could get out of it. Anywho, I'm working on 4 different stories and if I'm not mistaken, only 3 are published on this website so I may be a little all over the place for a while. Sorry for my instability, but I'm not sorry if no one has cared to care for the past months of inactiveness.

I'll be sticking with this to the end. I swears it.

_So...  
_Kawind OUT!


	5. Music Meister 3

The ticker tape of shame smothered the Music Meister.

He worked and dreamed of the day he could get out of Arkham, just so he could start over. Maybe smooth things over with Black Canary from afar and they might let him live in peace. Start a family, grow old with the woman of his dreams and then die an old man being buried next to a church so even in death, he could listen to the blissful harmonies of the legions of angels at the Lord's beck and call.

Now, that was something he could get a behind. An all knowing being that knows your past, your present and future. In fact, he determines it as well, and changes it as needed. Maybe that's just was the Music Meister needed to get him out of this pit of despair that he had mistaken for love. The only woman he ever felt so strongly for in all his life, tried to deceive him. Even after he had poured out his heart and soul to her in hopes she would undertake the slightest smidgen of empathy for the muse. But alas, heroes and villains never mix. And heroes are always the one to strike first in any formal relationship between the two.

This time, Black Canary is the one who struck.

And she went for the heart.

Now, as the rain flushed itself from the clouds and onto the house in the woods, Music Meister had lost his will to get up and leave. Even as the roof revealed holes and cracks, allowing the water to fill up the house from top to bottom. He even calmly changed from his usual attire to an all black ensemble to signify the death of the Music Meister. Ironic on two occasions, to be honest.

One, the Music Meister was not dead. But the official report would be read in that manner for many years. And two, Black Canary killed the current incarnation, and her name is indeed _Black _Canary.

He sat under a steady stream of H20, hoping that he'd be buried in a watery grave, and as the water ran off of his top hat, he almost couldn't hear the laughter of a madman as he walked through his front door, "Why so glum, chum?!" Even in the muse's solemn state, he had the urge to break into smile, but that was just the Joker's natural aura.

"And what are you doing here, jester?" The Music Meister spat out with a taste of contempt, "Has your clown car got a flat? Or maybe the rain is making your make-up run?" The jokes would have been funny had the atmosphere not been so clogged with despair and rain.

If the jokes weren't funny, the Joker didn't know it. Laughter rang through the areas where one could actually hear it over the rain, "That actually hurt, Musy, " He walked circles around his companion who didn't care to rise from the floor which was quickly filling with water, "After all we've been through, you still think that insulting me makes me leave? It almost makes me kind of worried you don't know me at all!" He quickly jumped down to look at Music Meister in the eyes, "What color am I thinking of?!"

"Bang."

An eerie silence fell on the house besides the constant clamor of the rain filling the house.

"But...'Bang' isn't a color!"

"You said it yourself, 'Anything that goes Bang! is my favorite of anything!'" The Music Meister just slumped a little to the side not even remotely interested in his own words.

The Joker tackled him with a hug, crushing the wind out of him, "You do love me!" He feigned crocodile tears, blowing into the Muse's black overcoat that was already drenched in water. His victim gave up the struggle and just allowed him to pull away on his own power.

"Great, now I have to burn this entire outfit..." He sighed heavily and brushed his shoulders off, which actually just squeezed water out.  
"Oh really? From the looks of it, it looks like you're trying to drown it!" The Joker maniacally laughed once more, but the Music Meister was not so easily entertained. He sat and wallowed in his own depression. If there was one type of person the Joker pitied the most, it was those who could not enjoy a good joke.

Oh! How the Joker imagined Batman's ever so present scowl on his serious face. The thought of their many battles and constant confrontations made him laugh even further into his own delusions. He attempted to stop laughing only to catch a glimpse of Music Meister's confused face and how strange but expected this was of him which further induced his laughter. What a vicious but hilariously insane cycle this event was! He keeled over from a possible spleen rupture, and eventually calmed down to the point of normal conversation.

"If you're done being you, leave. I've got no use for comedians around here..."  
"That was a little harsh, no? I mean, I came here to give you a clean slate! Good ole, countrysides and roses. What do you say, chum?" The Joker held out his hand, asking for a little faith. That was something the Music Meister needed, and he also needed a clean start. He didn't care if he died or was tortured by the psychopath. He just needed to get away from there, or that would kill him all by itself.

He hesitantly took his hand and felt the crunching of paper in-between their hands. He looked wearily at the paper and realized it was a map with a big red circle on a piece of land somewhere in Europe, "Even I've got connections, Musy..."

The Joker helped him up off of the drowning floor and moved out of the way for him to walk out of the house for the final time, but the Music Meister hesitated, "...why are you helping me?"

For an extended amount of time, the escaped convicts just looked at each other, but the jokester finally broke the silence, "Sometimes, I remember my past, and it seems a little mundane. I just want to spice it up sometimes..."

And with that, the muse took that as his stating that this was a moment of weakness in his persona, and he realized it would likely be the last time that something like that would ever happen again.

Lightning flashed in the background, disguising the Music Meister's single tear drop as a trick of sorts. But if the Joker had seen it, he would have smiled. No, not his usual, maniacal facade. But a genuine sympathetic smile, that wished to be present from the morning sun to the waxing moon, but when you get dropped into a container of acid, these thoughts are very fleeting in the least. The Music Meister would miss his friend, if that's what you called those things, but any chance at another start was worth the most important of friends even if they would never be seen again.

No, this was not the finale of this ballad.  
He had just finished the introduction.  
Now it was onto the 1st movement.

* * *

**A.N. **Short chapter, yada yada. I know. Seriously not the best I could do, and it even disappoints me a little. I was just running out of things to say at this point in the story. My apologies, everyone.

_So...  
_Kawind OUT!


	6. Bruce Wayne 3

**A.N. **Sorry for that extended break I took. I hit a wall on the story. I know how I want it to end, but I couldn't figure out what needed to happen at this point in the story. So I apologize in advance if this isn't to anyone's liking. I'm really trying. I really am.

* * *

"Are you **_sure_**?!" An explosion rocked the enemy's commanding ship, almost making Batman lose his grip on a broken edge of the ship, which would have caused him to free fall through space with almost no clear direction right into black hole. Perilous situation? Yes. Completely avoidable? Equally as correct, but when was anything in the crime fighting business as simple as it should be?

The Flash couldn't blame him for doubting any idea that came to his mind, but even if they were short on good ideas, the entire fleet of ships was headed into a black hole while Kanjaro was making his escape leaving both most of the Justice League and his entire crew of bloodthirsty warriors to get sucked into the giant space anomaly. There was no time to decide what was a good idea when the only other option was a humongous and unpredictable black hole. It could take them to another solar system, galaxy, universe, dimensional plane, or most likely to nothing at all which would result in an eternal state of limbo or even death. Barry gripped onto Batman's hand, pulling him back up onto the deck of the ship.

At this rate, everyone would be swallowed up by the black hole if nothing was done, but Kanjaro also had to be apprehended before he attempted to start a civil war on a planet that was not his own-or start a civil war anywhere for that matter. A choice had to be made: sacrifice the ships with Kanjaro's crew on them and escape the fleet with Kanjaro in hand or save the crew and risk both getting caught in the black hole and letting that evil mastermind go free.

At first thought, the decision was hard to fathom making, but as another second passed between Barry and Bruce, Batman realized that Barry was right, Kanjaro was not that big of a threat in the first place. He could be found and tried time and time again without fail. Saving lives was what needed to be done.

"Are you two going to continue staring into each other eyes or are we going to save these guys and get the heck outta here?!" Booster Gold zoomed past in a flash of golden light followed by his scientifically powered assistant "Skeets".

"Good one, Mr. Gold!" The machine chirped, "But next time, don't look at the camera so much. We want this to be as natural as possible." Skeets zoomed right along behind him and past Batman and Flash.

Batman sighed, already knowing the answer to his next question,"Camera?"

Booster Gold's eyes lit up behind his futuristic sunshades, "They want to make a video game about _me!_ Can you believe it?! Of course you can because I'm none other than Booster Gold! Good Guy, Crime Fighting Superhero from the future who has come back in time to clean up the Earth of it's evil!" He looked off towards Skeets again who was probably the camera itself," Was that good?"

"Absolute _gold, _sir!" The robot and Booster shared a laugh as the two flew off to rescue more of Kanjaro's abandoned crew.

The Flash was keeping in his laughter in hopes that he could keep it in check, but as soon as Booster and Skeets disappeared behind some wreckage he could no longer contain himself, "Remind me why we invited that bedazzled goof?!"

"Despite his unguided point of view, he still has the right intangibles and abilities to be able to survive in a world like ours. Also," The man in question zoomed past with an armful of survivors, "He can fly."

Flash just rolled his shoulders and sprinted off leaving Batman behind to watch as the black hole loomed closer and closer.

* * *

The next three minutes was filled with the combined efforts of Superman, Batman, Flash and Booster Gold searching through wreckage of the ships finding various former enemies and carrying them to their various ships. Superman excluded because he didn't really have any need for a ship to fly through space.

"Batman!" Superman called, "We've almost arrived at the meeting point, but I'm afraid we won't have enough time to get there!" He grunted under the weight of carrying around a hundred or so of Kanjaro's crew. Batman, on the other hand, could only carry 2-3 at a time. Unlike most of the other superheroes, Batman wasn't genetically altered or born with superhuman strength.

Batman nodded,"We've still got to try!"

"**Help!" **The two heroes spun around to see a single hand gripping onto a broken piece of ship as it was being sucked into the black hole. Batman tossed his two loads of survivors onto Superman's, as he made a break for the single body holding on for dear life.

"Just leave him Bruce! _It's too late!_" He grunted under the added pressure, "If you go, you'll never make it back!"

Batman didn't slow down or even turn around to say, _**"I can make it!" **_He made it to the man in distress nearing the edge of the black hole. The anomaly was pulling at his cape and if it hadn't been for his strong constitution, he would have already been sucked in. Nonetheless, he knelt down and held out his hand even though he couldn't see his rescuee's face because of a ragged hood, "Come on! There's not much time left!"

The victim pulled back his hood, revealing himself to be none other than Kanjaro, "Then I suppose that means there's no time to be spared for the likes of **_you,_** Batman!" The evil villain took a hold of Batman's hand with a hand that was equipped with an electroshock machine equipped with it which both disabled all of Batman's equipment and rendered Batman dazed and confused, allowing Kanjaro to throw Batman towards the black hole.

From this moment forward, the world seemed to move in slow motion. He watched Kanjaro deploy his jet pack with a sinister grin spread across his face. Batman's eyes moved up and caught Flash bringing Kanjaro's surprise attack to Superman's attention. His friend turned his head with a horrified expression on his face and widened eyes almost looking directly into Batman's. Even at Flash's fastest speed, Batman saw his every movement as time began to move slower and slower. Batman knew he couldn't reach him in time; his feet were already inside the vortex. He looked up once again and watch Booster Gold, with an angry expression chasing Kanjaro through the wreckage of the ships, but ultimately losing him and angrily pounding his fists against a ship. Booster looked up and locked eyes with Batman. The two shared a single moment before Batman turned his attention back to Flash who was still too far away, but was reaching for Batman anyway, and the last image Bruce Wayne or Batman had was of Flash's worried face and his outstretched hand grasping for what was already lost.

**Prologue Finished. **

* * *

**A.N. **Short chapters are no fun; they move too fast. I'm sorry if that is the case here, but I promise, I'm actually getting somewhere. I can't promise the next chapter won't be this short because I haven't seen that far yet. Yes, the first 6 chapters were all a prologue, and that was a last minute decision. I've been trying to figure out how I wanted this to be set up and I've figured this was the best way to go. Even though I said I can't promise anything, I hope the quantity improves in the upcoming chapters because of the actual story line.

And now, to make clear some things up, Bunker A28 was where Bruce Wayne kept his space equipment. Anticlimactic. So sorry. Kanjaro was stirring up trouble as I mentioned in the above chapter and Superman had picked up on it, calling Bruce and the Flash for help. Bruce, however, also asked to bring Booster Gold along because he's still trying to give him chances to fit in with the rest of the supers. Again, so sorry for the wait being so anticlimactic.

_So...  
_Kawind OUT!


	7. The Perfect Storm

It took the Music Meister only a few minutes to remember what he was doing once he was already on the boat that the Joker provided him.

He took this time to examine the boat. The Music Meister wasn't expecting it to be large, and he certainly wasn't disappointed. It was basically an average fishing boat with a single sail to catch wind. He stepped onto his only means of escape and inspected the small structure that was placed strategically at the head of the vessel. Inside, there was an old school, pirate-ship wooden steering wheel at the helm along with a satellite radio and unfoldable chair for fishing purposes, the Muse guessed. In only a matter of days, Gotham would be a distant memory beyond the horizon, and he would likely never return for the rest of his life...or at least until the statute of limitations had expired.

No! No...the Music Meister must never return. If he did, there was no telling what impulses he'd be forced to give in to. What he wanted was to live in peace, and a fresh start elsewhere was what he needed more than anything.

Before he knew it, he was at least a half-mile off the coast of Gotham and in the Atlantic using the eastward wind as his only driving force. The Music Meister set up the chair on the boat facing back towards Gotham as it slowly faded away. He wistfully took in the skyscrapers hidden in the smog of the city. A ringing of emergency personnel sirens rang throughout the city at all times. Someone was always dying, killing, robbing, or raping. It was such a hazardous city to live in and to attempt to thrive in. The escapee realized that this was becoming the type of situation where he was homesick of the same home that was potentially killing him slowly.

Even though Gotham City was chaotic, it was the Music Meister's home for the most part. Anyone with any sort of heart or soul would feel that away about anywhere. Even if you were a super villain who needed to destroy your secret base because it was discovered, as you rush to exit, you'd still feel a tinge of sadness as you pressed the big red button to set off a chain of events which would eventually leave your hideout in flames.

This was how the Music Meister felt about Gotham.

Although there was no big red button to blow it to smithereens, he did have a fishing boat to get away from that place which served his purpose just as well. The buildings were almost completely gone and with them, Music Meister's past; a past of abuse, crime, broken hearts, and dingy prisons. Black Canary would become a distant memory in 3...2...1...is what he thought. Even once there were no traces of Gotham left to be found, no evidence that there was such a city, Black Canary's song and beautiful face still plagued his very soul. Was this love or a cruel curse to atone for the deeds of the Music Meister?

The heartbroken man would not cry out clutching his chest or something as trivial as praying. He simply sat on the chair facing the way he had just come, thinking for an indefinite amount of time.

* * *

In a stunning bright, white flash of light the first lightning strike appeared, signaling an oncoming storm and waking the Music Meister from his slumber on the deck of the boat with its thunder. He was nearly thrown overboard by shock and loud crackling of the natural phenomena. He frantically searched his surroundings and came to the early conclusion that he had gone blind due to how dark the ocean had become in a matter of...however long he had been asleep.

Excruciatingly sinister dark clouds covered the sky as far as his eyes would allow him to see. In a strange case of irony, the clouds produced starkly white lightning and strong gale-force winds. The Music Meister had no way of knowing if he was heading in the right direction now; for all he knew, he could have been turned right back around and headed right back to Gotham.

Sadly, that event would have been the most fortunate of situations for the Music Meister was a sitting duck and the oncoming storm looked to be quite the hungry beast. All the mortal could do against this unstoppable force of nature was make sure he had the sail so he quickly climbed to the very top of the boat and unhooked his only hope of making it anywhere on the ocean. He neatly folded it and threw it into the storage below the floor of the boat. It was a very small storage, and if need be, he could fit himself inside of it, although it would be a tight squeeze. If worse came to worst, that small space could be his saving grace, but the Music Meister would have given anything so that it wouldn't come to that.

As the ex-con stared out into the void of the dastardly obsidian ocean ahead of him, a roar came up from the west-or at least, the west as he saw it. The roar started like a whisper, but quickly materialized into a strong downpour of rain. Once he began to see it, he watched as sheet after sheet of rain inched closer and closer to his boat until finally, like a pressurized shower-head, the muse was drenched from head to toe in the deluge of the severe storm that was ripping through this quadrant of the ocean.

In the mixture of the rain and already dark skies,the Music Meister's visibility was limited to almost none besides the occasional flash of lightning that would burst onto the scene at spontaneous moments. Each one, it seemed like it could have been a stones throw away from the boat, but that might have just been his paranoia starting to kick in.

The wind began to really kick in at this point, but it didn't gradually rise into gale-force winds. A strong torrent of wind blasted the port side of the small boat all at once, nearly knocking the Music Meister overboard and into the already chaotic waters, but on instinct, he hit the deck of the boat and waited the gust out. Even while doing this, the wind was strong enough to blast the ship nearly onto it's starboard side. So strong, in fact, the Music Meister dared to look up and saw the ocean had swapped sides with the sky. He lost his breath. At anytime, he worried, the seas would no longer be bound by gravity as they once were, and they would fall to meet the boat. This was also a moment of a fated double standard.

Would the seas fall or would the boat come to meet them?

As if answering his cosmically challenging question, the seas refused the gifted blessing of gravity and collapsed onto the Music Meister and his vessel.

It was at this moment that he realized that his earlier plea held no substance; "would have given anything" _There was nothing left for him to give. _The very clothes on his back were nothing more than you'd see on a homeless loiterer. He resigned his shoes to the docks because if he had to swim, shoes would only get in the way.

The former Maestro of Villainy's head broke the surface of the ocean after his unexpected expulsion from the solid wooden planks of the boat. Speaking of which, the boat was overturned completely. The sounds of the heavy rain beating against everything around him clouded his auditory senses to the point that even the booming thunder of the lightning was dulled. The Music Meister took note of the fact that the rain was bombarding the seas so fast that the lightning appeared smeared like an oil pastel. The spontaneous flashes appeared like defective light bulbs against the dark of the somewhat mystical storm.

His body was being pulled and pushed inside the chaos the storm brewed in the ocean. Waves picked up his body and currents pulled and pushed almost as if there was a giant hand the had just found a new toy, shaking it around to see how it works. The Music Meister realized the safest way he'd survive this is if he climbed on top of the bottom of the boat so he did just that. Although a slippery undertaking, he managed this feat just as a rather large washed down upon him and the boat.

The weight of possibly 100 gallons of water crushed the air out of the Music Meister's lungs, leaving his body limp and washing him back into the ocean. Once more, his head broke free of the chaotic ocean to allow fresh ocean air back where it belonged. Again, he decided on the undertaking of climbing onto the boat, but again, a wave crashed down on him. Instead of washing him off the boat, it crushed him _through _the boat. His eyesight became clouded with a mixture of blue, green, and black immediately once the water collapsed down. His body burst through the bottom of the boat and out onto the supposed to be deck.

Once his eyesight returned, he could see the hole he'd just come through. There was splintered wood floating around mixed with a dark wispy shade of red.

...Wait.

A sharp pain flared from the Music Meister's side, but he wouldn't dare investigate the cause. Using his legs and arms, he propelled himself back to the boat, wincing nearly the entire time.

Upon reaching the boat, he expended a great amount of energy to pull himself up on top of it to check his wound, but unfortunately, once he was able to see the shape of the Atlantic Ocean, his spirits, as conveniently dampened as they were, were only further crushed as he watched enormous fifty to seventy foot waves swell up and crash forming more and more waves that continued to swell up and rise higher and higher.

Wind tore at his hair and ruined clothes. The gusts were not as strong as they once were while the boat was still floating normally, but they still threatened to blow away the Music Meister with a strong and sudden attack. Suddenly, a blinding, white flash of lightning struck not more than 20 feet away from him, disrupting his vision and rendering his auditory senses disabled.

Not knowing what to do, he just sat still long enough for his hearing to return back to somewhat normal, and once it did, he did not like what he heard.

A loud roaring sound seemed to be surrounding him from all sides. The Music Meister's eyesight slowly crawled back to him. He went from seeing pure white light to seeing nothing but darkness, just as the ocean surrounding him was. Still, the roaring did not stop. Forcing his eyes to cooperate, the Music Meister focused his eyes straight ahead of him only to have his breath taken away at how beautiful the sight was.

An incalculably gigantic swell towered into the sky, swallowing the Music Meister's entire world whole. If his world seemed dark before, the wave made the world seem almost non-existent. Then it fell and time seemed to freeze in its tracks.

The tip of the swell curved over the Music Meister and his turned over boat to the point that he had to bend his neck back to see the extent of its reach, and it reached farther than he could perceive. Time began thawing out but moving slowly. The massive entity of water seemed to be purposely dragging out its inevitable crushing of the Music Meister's soul, but he knew this was just a causality of being the victim of an event that meant life or death. Most people saw their life flash before their eyes, but the unlucky ones were forced to watch it unfold as slowly as possible just so who ever the higher power was that was creating the events in the world could laugh his ass off at how maniacal a story teller he was. In those slower than imaginably possible moments, the person would self-reflect on their life on their own, wondering how something happened or why this and that, only to come to the conclusion that they did not deserve it and that the world was a beyond cruel world.

But what of the Music Meister?

Beaten, battered, and tired, the man stood up on the shaky boat and winced. There was definitely something solid lodged into his side; probably a broken off piece of wood from when he plummeted through the bottom of the ship. He touched around the wound and felt the warm blood that pumped through his very veins on his fingers.

Was he mad? Very much so, but that couldn't be helped. The Music Meister was an outlaw, an ex-con, a manipulator, a hypnotist, a kidnapper, and if you added "handsome " and "heartbroken" then you'd have described the Music Meister in a nutshell. He was not perfect, nor did he dream to be perfect. However, he'd give anything if he could just find peace.

Maybe death was, in fact, the answer, he realized as the tidal wave was only a mere ten feet from his head. Maybe death would provide the eternal peace he longed for. No more suffering, no more feeling, no more anything. Just darkness. Unless there really was a heaven or hell, but even if there was, would the Music Meister be able to perceive his eternal damnation as if he were alive? Or was his soul to be the only one who bore the weight and pain of being a villain while he was alive? This was a question for someone of unimaginable wisdom, but right now, the Music Meister did not have one on hand.

The Joker appeared next to the former villain, "Sometimes," the apparition started, "I wonder what it would have been like to leave behind the life of crime...a big bucket of acid ruined that dream. It was completely avoidable, but I made the choice to do what I was doing and I paid the price." The mad super villain turned back to the Music Meister who looked on in wonder that such a vision had a appeared before him, especially a vision of the Joker, "What is it that _you_ will let destroy your dreams and what will you do to avoid it?" He disappeared, leaving the muse with only his thoughts and the impending wave of doom.

He considered the Joker's words and realized his own conviction to live was stronger than he had realized.

_The Music Meister wanted to live. _He certainly would not let a little water quench his thirst for peace and happiness, but he could not avoid the giant wave that was only inches away from crashing down upon him. What else was he to do other than face it head on?

The Music Meister gripped the splintered off wood lodged into his side and with a primal scream of pain, he ripped it out, blood oozing out from the puncture, but it did not matter in the slightest to him. Once he opened his eyes from squeezing them shut in pain, he was met with his own reflection being projected on the inside of the tidal wave. It was so close to slamming down onto him that he could watch his own reflection in the final moments before a bath he possibly wouldn't wake up from. This was a special occasion for it had been many _many _years since the Music Meister had been a witness to his outside appearance. The Music Meister's ginger hair was dripping wet with sea water, his nose bloody from the multiple accounts of water being forced up his nose along with the crash through the boat. He was sure it was broken by the way it was scrunched in and bent in almost to a right angle, but the pain of the puncture wound in his side was taking up all of the pain he could spare.

Something was new in his reflection that he hadn't seen since before he acquired those accursed music note visors: his eyes. Two orbs of white, black, and an extremely dark shade of purple were staring back at him through his reflection. He stared deep into his own eyes, searching for what to do inside of them, and what he found was a dark, purple flame hidden deep within the looking glass. The Music Meister realized this was his determination to live, and he was willing to face this storm head on in order to live his life.

Yes, anger welled up inside him, but it was not anger at the fact that he might die...

It was anger at the fact that he was being underestimated.

As the wave lurched less that a half millimeter away from his body, the Music Meister spread his arms out wide, still clutching the wood that had once punctured his body in one hand, and with a wild smile, bellowed out to the world that dared underestimate him, "**_Is this the best you can do?!_**" The exact moment afterwards, the tidal wave collapsed its overwhelming body of water onto its worthy adversary causing everything in his world to completely disappear...

* * *

**A.N. **And it looks like this chapter was _considerably _longer than the last. Again, sorry about a lot of things. Now, to clear up some possible confusion: Yes, I try correlate the events from Batman's point of view with the Music Meister's point of view. So at about the same time as this chapter's events, Batman disappeared inside that wormhole.

There will be a time-skip after this chapter. Odd placement for a time-skip, and I'm sure some will wonder why I didn't just put this in the prologue. I couldn't have done that unless I wanted to add another Batman chapter, but I was done with his story from a prologue standpoint.

If anyone has any questions, please, go for it.

_So..._  
Kawind OUT!


	8. Homecoming

_Two Years Later_

* * *

Batman collapsed into his rolling chair inside the Batcave with relief as Ace, the Bat-hound, trotted up to him with a Batarang chew toy. The excited dog dropped the toy only for the hero to decline the offer of playing fetch in option of relaxing after a hectic week of the usual superhero routine.

Of course, this wasn't actually Batman, at least not the Bruce Wayne incarnation. Dick Grayson, a.k.a. Nightwing, a.k.a. the current Batman, was and has always been the one to fill in for Bruce Wayne's role as the World's Greatest Detective. Especially now that Bruce had gone M.I.A. two years prior. Now, Nightwing had to stop both his share of crime and the original Batman's. Because, in a bitter pill of truth, almost no one was able to instill fear into villains and super-villains alike like _the _Batman, and no one could be _the _Batman like _the_ Bruce Wayne.

However, most small time crooks are too scared by just seeing the dark shadow of the hero to examine whether or not it was the same man behind the mask so his substitute job took up where the last one left off.

Of course there are always those certain arch-nemesis type villains that are closer than most family members and can always tell when something is up. It was at this point that an overwhelming feeling of pure remorse washed over Nightwing as he was subjected to the memory of one of the first villains he was forced to go after once the last Batman disappeared...

* * *

_...Two Years Earlier..._

The Joker's dark purple getaway vehicle clamored down Gotham's main roads and streets. Despite his visible insanity, the Joker avoided all objects that he could easily have destroyed. As the newly commissioned Batman pursued the villain in the BMW M1 turned Batmobile, he almost thought that he had gone soft; that is, until the Joker started tossing bombs out of his windows. Each one bounced as if they were made of rubber and exploded in a fit of laughter recorded from the Joker's real laugh.

The explosive devices bounced around, destroying buildings, causing the citizens of Gotham to panic and run throughout the city in fear. This was a typical day in the life of any superhero, boy, oh boy. This time, however, Batman/Nightwing had help.

"_**Hazzah!" **_

Aquaman's signature cry echoed throughout the turmoil in the streets of Gotham City as he shot protective blobs of water to encase the slew of bombs that continued to stream from the Joker's automobile. Just as the water would encase the bombs, they would go off and result in a harmless show of waterworks which quickly turned the panic in the streets to joy and delight, "Thanks for having my back, Aquaman; everyone else is either avoiding me or busy with their own maniac, "Batman said over the earpiece both he and Aquaman shared for this occasion.

"This is no trouble at all, old chum! Anytime I can be of service is a pleasure!" Aquaman sent another slew of water to counteract the deadliness of the bombs, "Although...no, it's nothing." And the King of Atlantis fell silent.  
"No, Aquaman, please, whatever you need to say, I'd prefer you said it," Batman coaxed as he dodged another volley of bombs.

The coms unit they shared stayed silent for a few moments longer, but before Nightwing had realized what it was all about, Aquaman started, "Look, I offer you my condolences about the loss of your former partner in crime, Bruce Wayne,"Nightwing sighed, letting his battle partner finish,"He was a good friend if not my best friend, and I'm sure you can say the same, but if you ever need anything, _anything _you can count on me to be there."

After a few moments of picking threw his words as if he were on the bomb squad picking through wires, no pun intended, naturally, the new Batman finally answered, "Thank you, Aquaman. That means a lot, but to be truthful, Bruce, the old Batman, was bossy, thick-headed, and a stick in the mud. While he was on this earth, or anywhere for that matter, I was forced to live in his shadow. And now that he's gone..." Nightwing stifled back tears, "...it's only caused me more stress than grief." A moment of silence fell between the two superheroes until Nightwing finished his say, "...And I'm _still_ not half the man he was...now, now that you've got what little emotion I'm allowed to show in my new role out of me, if you really meant what you said about doing anything to help, you're doing it. So keep doing what you're doing while keeping the talking to a minimum because I've got a criminal mastermind to catch, "He finished, "Got it?"

Even though the earpiece was audio only, Nightwing could see Aquaman's smile through the electronic device, "You couldn't be any clearer."  
"Good. Now that that's out of the way, the Joker has about 1.4 million dollars of Gotham's capita in that bottomless pit he calls a car so we're not trying to damage his car;we only want-! **_Look out: Gatling gun!" _**A gun the size of a small beetle bug car arose from the trunk of the Joker's vehicle, once again forcing the Caped Crusader to wonder how he could fit a limitless number of bombs, 1.4 million dollars, and then an over-sized gun all in the same vehicle. The gun fired instantaneously after it's arrival, causing the Batmobile to take evasive action and dodge, but Aquaman was not nearly as lucky as to dodge.

"_**Ah!**_" Aquaman's cry rang over the earpiece along with the sound of static.

Batman implored on his partner's status just after the suppressing fire had stopped, "Aquaman?! Are you okay?"  
Critical seconds passed until the King answered, "...I'm just peachy. I was only shot in the shoulder; a flesh wound, "He groaned, "Go after that maniac while I tidy things up here and get wrapped up. I'm sure you can handle him; you _are _Batman, after all."  
"I'm glad you said it first, "Batman smiled and put his full foot on the gas peddle as he and Joker curved and twisted through the streets of Gotham long after all bombs and bullets had been used.

* * *

Batman swerved into the abandoned warehouse's courtyard after the Joker only to see a glimpse of the Joker carrying bags full of money into the decrepit building.

The Joker had sent Batman/Nightwing on wild goose chases, false turns, and all sorts of trickery throughout the night which led the maniacal super-villain to settle inside the stereotypical final showdown spot for any villain.

As Batman stepped out of the Batmobile, he knew to take his time; the Joker was not the type to avoid confrontation. In fact, he was usually the type to invoke the confrontation rather than escape the confrontation. Although, he was quite the unpredictably sneaky mastermind at the end of the day, and no matter what preconceived idea you had of the man, he was sure to surprise.

He peered to the night sky, watching as the orange twilight of the evening slowly morphed into the dark, purple of night. Only a few stars graced the night with their shine, but the enlarged full moon was unwilling to let go of the evening light, still shining a sinister orange as a breeze ripped at his cape. Although the breeze wasn't cold, it wasn't warm. Almost as if it wasn't there at all, but it had to have been; Batman felt it. But then another question arose: Did he actually feel the breeze? Or did was it just the feeling the breeze gave him? The unshakable feeling of uncertainty. Certainly, Nightwing was no stranger to it, but this time, being unsure against the Joker was akin to lighting a cigarette next to a leaky gas line. It could and would almost likely blow up in your face.

Hoping this was just paranoia after donning the bat-suit after so long, Nightwing pushed on towards the warehouse with renewed conviction. He withdrew a grapnel gun from his belt, shooting up to the uppermost window of the warehouse, allowing for him to be pulled up and through the window, crashing into the building.

Needless to say, the stereotypically abandoned warehouse was very poorly lighted. In fact, the only light was of the moon, and the only sound was of the Joker's laughter, "Quite the entrance, Batsy! Love the grunge theme you're going with 'Destroy the already destroyed' and all. I'd clap if I wasn't too busy carrying around all this moolah!"

Trying his best Batman impersonation, Nightwing responded from the warehouse's top level, "Cut the jab, Joker. This isn't our first go around. But it is your last bank robbery. Your days of dastardly debilitating Gotham's bank accounts are over!" He jumped down from his bird's eye view of the floor after being unable to spot the villain due to the obstruction of mounds and mounds of crates and empty boxes, "The building is surrounded! There are officers everywhere around the building and Aquaman is on his way now."

"Oh!" The Joker chimed in, "That glorified fish?! Please, "Joker joked, "don't make me laugh! How is he doing, by the way? I saw him take that nasty bullet to the shoulder! Oh, and by the way, " Nightwing noticed all too late the sneak attack, "You're a terrible liar." A hard metal object crashed against the back of his head, rendering him unconscious and at the mercy of the Joker.

* * *

Batman regained consciousness to the feeling of iron restraints and the sound of belligerent screaming, "**_Wake up!" _**

His eyes shot open to the end of a gun, "Where _is **he?"  
**_Groaning, Nightwing replied, "...Who...the hell is 'he'?"

It was at this point, you could expect at least a chuckle from the usually laughter filled Joker, but something must have made him extremely upset for the _Joker _to not _laugh_, "You're not him, are you? No. You can't be him. You're just too..._not **him!**_" The Joker started wagging his head back and forth as if he were a dog with wet hair. The lunatic clutched half of his face in his hand, hiding his wicked smile-only allowing the murderous intent in his eyes to be seen as he raised the gun back to Nightwing's head, the extended barrel pointed straight down the middle, "Now, _tell me. __**Where is Batman." **_

A cold shiver jolted Nightwing into hurrying and unpacking his mini-laser from the iconic utility belt that had been used for so many years. He immediately went into work, corroding away the iron shackles around his wrists.

Expecting it to take a shorter amount of time, the substitute Batman remained silent, but it was too long for the unstable Joker, who demanded an answer, "_**Huh?!**_"

His hand was forced. Batman needed to answer, but the Joker couldn't know by himself could he? Nightwing was still wearing the mask, right? He had to have been, otherwise, the Joker would have noticed who he really was without a doubt. So, there was only one other, obvious choice, "...I _am _Batman."

After a very tense moment of silence, the Joker finally started to show signs of his old self, laughing, and tapping the edge of the barrel of the gun to his temple multiple times while laughing. Abruptly, however, he lost his smile, trading it in for a frown and a loaded gun. He pointed it back at Batman, and pulled the trigger.

With a loud _Bang!, _a pennant saying just that popped out from the end of the gun, causing Nightwing to flinch, ever so slightly. It was such a minuscule movement, in fact, there was no possible way a hawk could have noticed let alone the Joker. Nonetheless, he was still relieved to find out he would live to see another few minutes at the very least if the situation did not change.

The Joker pulled out another gun that looked just like the other and tapped the end against his temple just as he'd done with the other, "One more time, " he sat down and pointed it at his captive, "Yes, the last was a joke, but you _flinched _anyway. Given this fact, you are most definitely _not _Batman. You may be Batman as you say you are, but you are not _my _Batman. "

Nightwing was stunned. How had this make-up wearing lunatic completely uncovered his secret just based on a feeling and a flinch? What world was Nightwing suddenly living in? Was this even the real Joker? What if everything that had been happening since before Batman's disappearance had been nothing but a dream? Surely, there was a definite possibility Dick Grayson was asleep in his bed awaiting the alarm to start his morning routine. Or maybe he'd been knocked unconscious fighting some low-life criminal.

Joker's demanding voice crashed through all of Nightwing's hopes as if he were a wrecking ball demolishing an old house, "Where _is **Batman?!"**_ The gun was shaking in front of Nightwing's eyes, showing that the Joker was struggling maintaining what sanity he was holding onto.

Finally, Nightwing exhaled and simply told the truth as grave sounding as he possibly could so there was no misunderstanding, "He's...gone."

A broken smile rippled across the Joker's face as his eyes became wet with a mixture of joy and sweet sorrow, "Gone or..._gone?" _Nightwing's silence gave him all the answers he needed. Stricken with both jubilation and grief, all the villain could do was scream through his ever eternal smile as tears streamed down his face, "And what happened to him?"

Nightwing shook his head, "He was helping refugees off an enemy's armada fleet when he was sucked into a black hole. We can only be certain of the fact that he is deceased..."

"So there's a chance he's alive?!" Joker immediately picked up.  
"No! There's no way. Inside a black hole, there is nothing, "Nightwing explained, " Whatever comes in, it does not come out. Anyone or anything that has ever been in a black hole never came back to see the light of day or the darkness of night."  
"Then why don't you look for him!" Joker once again implored.  
"Don't you think we've tried?! Anything sent inside the black hole loses all tracking capabilities." Nightwing continued cutting away at the chains surrounding him.

The Joker jumped up gun in hand, "_Then what am I here for, **huh?! **Why is** everyone** leaving me?" _The Joker began pacing back and forth, breathing heavily, "_Tell me! **Tell! Me!" **_He stopped pacing, suddenly as if he were frozen in his tracks, "Eureka! I've had an idea, Mr. Batman, my good fellow!" The make-up clad madman held the gun to his own head, "If Batman and I are alike like I believe we are, I do believe this way, I'll find my Batsy much quicker than you lot will. Besides, I think it's about time Hell became a lot more interesting!" A hysterical laugh erupted from the lunatic as he pulled the trigger of the gun.

There was still just enough metal in the chain so Nightwing couldn't break through and save the Joker from his attempted suicide, but it turns out he didn't have to: another flag with the word _Bang! _popped out, relieving the superhero that he could still save both of their lives.

"Gotcha, didn't I?!" Joker said as he pulled another pistol from his pocket, turned it towards his own temple, and pulled the trigger, sending blotches of red and brain matter spewing over the crates and boxes of the empty warehouse and some even on to Nightwing who had freed himself and was halfway to stopping the Joker from pulling the second trigger when he claimed his own life. Although he was too late to stop the Joker from suicide, he did stop him from hitting the ground, c atching him in a position where his head lolled to the side just so Nightwing had to stare directly into his empty eyes.

A lifetime of pain was the story written in the Joker's face as a smile was still present. Some believed that the Joker smiled because he always found things funny, but they never truly understood that when one is under such an immense amount of pain, all you can do is smile and life hysterically because crying and screaming just won't cut it. It truly does drive the best of men crazy, with or without a container of acid. Such a realization shocked Nightwing to his very core, and he wept over the freshly deceased body of the Joker. Not just for him, but for Bruce Wayne, and Dick Grayson, and all others that knew what they were signing up for and yet can't handle the reality of the fates they face.

Aquaman placed a hand on Batman's shoulder as he wept, "It's alright, friend. Let it all out..."

And that is exactly what he did.

* * *

_...Current Time..._

Batman/Nightwing hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep until his phone began to ring without stop, and he was forced to pick it, "...Yes?" He stated groggily.

Green Arrow's voice came through from the other end, "Bats, there's something I think you need to see."  
"Can it honestly wait until tomorrow, Green Arrow? I'm really beat, in fact, I was just asleep." Batman yawned.  
"Oh, you know what they say, _black holes _wait for no one. Starling City. Now." Green Arrow didn't even finish saying Starling City before Batman was in the Batmobile and moving at full speed towards Starling City.

Seeing how fast the Batmobile was, Batman was there in just a little over ten minutes. All other residents of the city had either fled or were in hiding more than likely from their prior knowledge of what a black hole does. The giant anomaly wasn't even outside of the Earth's atmosphere like it should have been, however; it was placed directly under the Earth's thermosphere, the Caped Crusader deducted. He could see it sucking air from the Earth, but other than that, all it was doing was distorting the vertical direction of the building: as they were bent sideways instead of straight up, "How long has it been here?"

Green Arrow didn't tear his eyes away from the black hole, "I don't know, but it's only a matter of time before this city makes like your predecessor and gets sucked inside."

Nightwing just stared at Green Arrow with both confusion and disgust. The world's greatest archer had let his beard grow out since Batman, the first, disappeared. He figured since there wasn't another clean-shaven rival to compete with, there was no need to keep up with it. He also thought that chicks loved superheroes with nice beards, and even though his was in full bloom, Black Canary, his wife and mother of his child, was still singing her lovely songs in his ear. Even if he tried, he couldn't leave a woman like that, "Too soon."

Green Arrow shrugged it off, "He was my friend too, ya know, in fact, he was my best friend ,and it's been two years since he left so I think I'd know if it was too soon or not. "  
"Look, are we really going to talk about this _now _for the hundreth time? Or are we going to find a way to make sure _your _city doesn't get sucked into a black hole?" Nightwing demanded, but Green Arrow's silence told him everything.

"Okay, maybe we can contact the Green Lantern Core or Martian Manhunter. Some kind of alien technology should be able to transport it to another quadrant. A dimensional teleportation device, perhaps." Just as soon as Batman finished his explanation, both he and Arrow were lifted off the ground but only momentarily. He looked up to the black hole and saw a minuscule white light appear inside of the darkness, and if this wasn't strange enough, it expanded into a large laser-like substance. It shot down to the Earth, and with it, so did Arrow and Batman.

The white light emitted a strong pulsation type effect. Air was moving away from it in waves and the ground seemed to shake as the blinding light continued to shine down from the black hole. All Green Arrow and Batman could do was watch as it continued to pour out pressure and an immense amount of energy, although it wasn't destroying or damaging anything. Finally, however, the light waned and along with it, the anomaly called the black hole.

Carefully, the two heroes arose from the ground to examine the aftermath of the strange events that had just occurred only to find a mildly large crater, about the same width and height as the light. As they walked to the edge of the crater, they peered inside to find a solo object that appeared to be a man. Had he been there the entire time and was just caught by the light by surprise?! The two jumped inside of the hole examine the man, and found that he was still alive. He was wearing ragged earth green clothes and his head of hair was savagely unkempt, possibly a hobo, or homeless man to be polite, "We need to get him to a hospital!" Green Arrow suggested.

Together, the two picked him up and helped him to his feet, but with the strength of a circus strong man, he pushed away their help. The two could fully see his face now, although most of it was obstructed by an unkempt, but fully grown beard, but his strong willed eyes could not be missed. They spoke volumes of what the stranger might have experienced, but there was something else in them. Batman stared into those eyes longer than he should have, and discovered the frightening truth as the man opened his mouth to speak, "Something..."The voice was so familiar it almost made Nightwing think he was hearing things, "Something big is..."the stranger swayed, "Something big is coming..." and then the man collapsed back to the ground.

Unknowing what Batman knew, Green Arrow was torn between amusement and worry, "Looks like that light hit him harder than we thought!" He chuckled nervously and retrieved the man by himself, but Batman just collapsed to his knees, tears in his eyes, "What, you know this guy?" Arrow asked, perplexed.

Nightwing slightly nodded but carefully. Whatever dream he was in, he didn't want to shake himself out of it, "And so do you, "He added, "This man..."He got choked up, "This man...is the _real _Batman." Green Arrow just looked on confused until he finally got the message, almost dropping the man.

He too looked upon the face of the man he was carrying as he also realized that it was, in fact, the face of Bruce Wayne.

* * *

**A.N. **Sorry if the ending felt rushed because I'm in a rush and I really wanted to get this done before I had to leave the house. As always, if anything is confusing or you have questions, just ask. I'll be delighted to answer.

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

_So..._  
Kawind OUT!


	9. Dinner Date

_Two Years After Batman's Disappearance..._

* * *

_"Mords moi!" _the third-rate criminal spat in Songbird's face after telling the hero to bite him resulting in a slap to the face.  
Songbird gripped both sides of his victim's head, "_La dernière fois: où est-il?!" _  
Charlie Hassan once again spat in his face, and told the hero that he might as well kill him because he would not tell him where their hideout was, and Songbird knew it would be this way. He'd done his research on the Frenchman from India. His family was not a household name, but they were very wealthy in the sense that they owned many oil investments.

Charlie was born in France; the youngest of three behind two older brothers. They both grew up _before _their family struck oil, so they learned to be independent of asking their parents for funds or anything for that matter. Eventually, the two brothers went into business together as chefs and they had actually recently won a joint award for Most Successful Up and Coming Businessmen of the World.

When their family struck oil, the two brothers were already successful enough without the extra money so the babying went to their third child Charlie, and for many years past adulthood, he was pampered with a lavish lifestyle until his mother, who was the one who _really _babied him, passed away. Without his mother to temper his father's fears that their child would grow up weak and dependent, he was kicked out of their home, and he returned to France where he was born. Charlie attempted to reach out to his brother's but they didn't understand his troubles because they grew up without money or without superfluous material so he was turned away.

Unsure of how to work professionally in a legal job, the whispers of an illegal but quick-witted jewel-thievery group named the Troubadours came to his attention and with the prospect of easy money, he quickly joined.

Songbird did not care to know any of his life's story, in fact, he could have gone his entire life-time without knowing anyone named Charlie and he wouldn't have lost a wink of sleep, but this thief had stolen something precious from him. Charlie was none of Songbird's business before, but _Charlie_ _made _him his business, something he would regret.

The hero known as Songbird slammed his adversary onto the opposite wall in the dark alleyway and grinned in the moonlight that shone through the cracks of the surrounding buildings. The white light reflected off of Songbird's dark-blue super suit-or at least, his suit for this occasion.

His suit made him look more like an antihero rather than a super one, and that assumption wasn't necessarily incorrect. What he did was for good, but not everyone would agree with Songbird's methods. This did not bother him in the slightest, however; mostly because he didn't care what others thought. His navy blue, cloth hood concealed his face perfectly, and even then, he painted three long, black lines across his face as a reminder of the number of years he'd spent incarcerated. He wore a white vest with a long sleeve black button-up with the sleeves rolled up to allow easy movement. What the occasion for being so nicely dressed was, Songbird did not know the answer, but he loved the look. He might just have to go out like that more often.

Without realizing it, Songbird's purple eyes had to begun to brighten as if there was a flame lit somewhere deep within him. His grin turned into a snarl as he spat out in response in the plea to kill Charlie per his request, "_Oh, tu voudrais avoir..." _stating that Charlie would wish that Songbird had killed him.

Charlie's look of defiance and confidence faltered once his adversary's response reached him.

Songbird could see in his eyes that he knew the hero meant business, but in the back of his head, Songbird knew that what he was about to do next was not as hero-like as was expected of France's new guardian, but it had to be done. In one fell swoop, he could both destroy the pesky Troubadours and retrieve what was stolen of his.

The hero opened his mouth feeling his energy welling up inside of him and converging in the focal point that was his voice box and then he heard himself speak-sing, rather:

"Songbird's song sings,  
It rings...  
It dings...  
It tings...  
It bings..."

Songbird felt Charlie trying to push back against the hero, knowing what he was doing, but Songbird held him in firm place until he got done. And he _would _finish.

"It washes away all of your troubles...  
Listen to its flow,  
Relax,  
Sit back,  
And _enjoy.  
The.  
Show_..."

Songbird put extra emphasis on the last few phrases, forcing weariness and susceptibility upon Charlie Hassan. Charlie's pupils dilated to those of a lemur and his mouth gaped open, saliva already beginning to form in a pool, just ready to drip to the ground. The hero cautiously released Charlie from his grasp, as he inspected how good his hypnotism worked. It hadn't been but a few weeks since he had to use his voice to control others. It reminded him of the past, but sometimes, desperate times called for desperate measures.

Songbird was on a schedule, after all.

Although his time was limited, Songbird felt a pang of guilt for using his voice like this again. He knew that once he ordered Charlie to do something, he wouldn't and _couldn't _be able to resist. He might struggle within himself to fight against Songbird's power, but that would just prolong the process, putting himself under more and more torture. Knowing Charlie's stubbornness, he would pledge civil war on himself to avoid doing anyone's bidding, and it was a fight he would not be able to win. Songbird could almost already see the tears of his struggle before he even commanded anything of him.

"Maintenant,_ dites-moi_: Où est votre cachette?!" again demanding where the Troubadours were holed up. As he predicted, Songbird watched Charlie hesitate for nearly two seconds, and two seconds was enough to know that he was fighting hard. He had the tears that rolled down his face to show it; two elongated streams of water that unceremoniously fell from the criminal's eye sockets.

And when they fell, they fell with the gravity of the world forcing them down, as if years of abuse-physical and mental, coupled with the embarrassment of being a bastard child, having your mother kill herself in shame, and your father turn you away because it would ruin his image as a major political figure had all come crashing down within Charlie's tears. Of course, none of that example was true, but in the eyes of Songbird's persona, it might as well have been, "_Puy...Puy de Sancy..." _

The name did ring a bell, but Songbird needed to know more.

Just as he was about to force out more information, a beeping sound interrupted his conquest for details. He was immediately at the ready for a fight, but as he looked around the alleyway in Paris, he found no reason to be alerted to an enemy. At this time of night, everyone was either preparing for the night shift of work or just getting to bed, unless you were Charlie Hassan and the super known as Songbird.

Reasonable deduction clues led him to believe the beeping was coming from a pocket inside of his suit. Pulling out the object which was the origin of the beeping, he realized what it was: a pager.

With a shock of horror, he read the small black letters that floated across the screen of the small black device almost choking on his own words, "Shit!" Songbird shouted in his natural tongue. He started to take off running, but remembered there was a hypnosis induced sleeper standing alone in a French alleyway. Songbird almost had the gall to leave him there and make it to his appointment on time, but the better half of him knew that doing so would result in a needless death.

Charlie at least still had a family.

"Put your crimes into the past  
Visit your family and make your time on this earth last"

Songbird serenaded:

"Get a job  
Find a wife  
And become very...very happy..  
For the rest of your life..."

And with that, Songbird snapped his fingers and ran off into the shadows leaving behind a confused Charlie Hassan with an insatiable appetite for home style cooking and a business card with his brothers' number on it...

* * *

_Sol Curry, _a new Hindi restaurant that opened up not too far off from the Eiffel Tower a few weeks ago that has received rave reviews ever since, was having a special food and wine tasting event to commemorate the anniversary of the owners' mother who had passed away many years prior, and since she was a generous, kind-hearted woman, they decided between themselves that the event would be open to those who could not usually afford such a hefty price, along with a few choice friends of the owners.

Hearing of this all the way in the region of Alsace in the commune of Thann Dànn, Haut-Rhin, Fergus Mac Conmara and his wife, Dianne Rouse(now Mac Conmara, naturally) jumped at the chance, and here they were, on the elevator going up the Eiffel Tower to dine at the best new restaurant in France.

And, of course, Fergus was a mess, as he usually was when there was something important to _not _look like a bum at. The two were alone in the somewhat spacious elevator so Dianne took this opportunity to correct the flaws her husband had in his style. She reached inside of her purse and pulled out a lint roller, going over his long-sleeve black arms, somewhat sullied white vest, and black pants legs, much to his chagrin, "I wish you'd stop obsessing over junk like this, "Fergus suggested in a rich Irish tongue," It makes you look even more OCD than you actually are."

Chuckling just a little Dianne retorted in an accent that was somewhat German and somewhat French but ultimately using the universal language of English, "Well, most people don't have husbands that come into meetings and dinners looking like he just got back from the gym or from crawling around in the alleyways." She pocketed the lint roller before noticing the remnants of a black type substance on his face that looked like paint, "And would you look at that!" she pulled out a wet wipe from her purse, "You're just one mess after another!" She began scrubbing away, "What even is this? Paint? Mardi Gras is five months removed, Mr. Party Animal."

"I was on my way here when I passed a vendor who asked if she could try out a new set of paint she had made herself so I stopped and became her model for a few minutes. She walked away happy after washing off the leftover paint and asking me if I wanted to buy any, although I declined. And here were are: You, with a lint roller and wet paper towel, and I, with just a smidgen of paint on my face, going up for dinner in the Eiffel Tower, "He finished, " See? Absolutely nothing to worry about."

Dianne stayed silent for a segment of time, just studying her husband of two years. There was a boundless amount of love and affection in those big, pale blue eyes, but there was always that sense of suspicion she held towards Fergus. She had many times tried to bring out the secrets he seemed to withhold from her, and to be completely honest, his memories were all a jumbled mess even to him, most of the time. "Most of the time" meaning the past year, he'd been having vivid dreams: Vivid, dark, and bloody visions.

Still, his wife tried her damndest to get some form of communication out of him, all for naught. You can't bring out information that no one has, after all.

She brushed her short, brown hair behind her ear and huffed, looking away, showing off her small elf-like nose and somewhat-boney cheeks. Fergus knew different, though, and brushed his fingers along the side of her soft, plush cheek, "C'mon, honey, look at me."

Reluctantly, she did and when she did, Fergus felt his heart skip a beat as he remembered every single reason why he loved her. From her short, almost choppy hair to her big blue eyes, to her soft, now coated with _Dolce And Gabbana_ _Lipstick in Devil _lips, to her soft skin, to her long(er) neck, to her average bust size, to her small overall size(he was a cool 6' while she was 5'7"), and to her small, but hard hands but all of those characteristics were physical. He loved her on a deeper level-a much more internal, wholesome level. Dianne was a hard worker, wholesome lover, and best of all, a wonderful mother.

The spectacularly bright lights of the Eiffel Tower that surrounded them only added to her grandeur as he gently kissed her on the lips, "It's okay. It's all okay." They shared an intimate moment where their eyes stayed connected all the way until the elevator stopped at their stop.

Noticing that it was their stop, Fergus kissed her cheek and held out his arm for her to take, "Now, lets get going on our date, shall we?"

* * *

**A.N. **I can hear the masses whispering in my ears, 'OTP...OTP...OTP..." It's alright if you don't like it, but I do so y'all will just have to deal with it. Anyway, it's been a while since I updated anything so I figured I'd start with this one and work my way around. I haven't been updating a lot because I'm also working on an original story on WattPad and reading Stephen King novels take a while. Basically I'm just looking for ideas and such-no plagiarism intended. I promise you that; I couldn't possibly touch Stephen King.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter and I hope you're all ready for a flashback...

_So..._  
Kawind OUT!


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